CSI Seigaku, Episode 1: The New Recruit
by Terminological Inexactitude
Summary: A young criminalist, fresh from training in the United States, joins the crime lab at Seigaku Police HQ. Chapter 6 - A Word of Advice.
1. An Encounter at Seigaku Station

Disclaimer: Characters from PoT were created by Konomi Takeshi. Gil Grissom belongs to CBS (or to whoever thought of CSI, for that matter). 

First in a possible series of semi-independent stories involving the Seigaku regulars as night-shift crime scene investigators. No actual sleuthing in this episode, I'm afraid -- just introductions (to lay the groundwork for any future episodes that might come up). Reviews are appreciated. 

A point that I must emphasise: no shounen-ai is intended or implied. Pairings are strictly professional, or (at the most) friendly. Fangirling in our family is the exclusive preserve of my sister. 

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The 16:30 express from central Tokyo slowed down rapidly as it approached the Seigaku railway terminal, screeching to a halt on the rain-soaked track within seconds after the driver applied the brakes. Its four carriages, normally filled to bursting with commuters, disgorged their unusually meagre burden of passengers before being towed away by the locomotive to a local rail yard for routine maintenance work before its rush-hour return to Shinjuku Station. 

As the 16:30 pulled out, a young lady slipped her train pass into an exit turnstile and walked away from the platform towards the station building. Dressed in the light blue uniform of a police officer – her dark red hair hanging loose down her back – the woman piled three bags onto a trolley before slowly making her way to the main lobby. A small rectangle of black plastic pinned to her uniform bore the name RYUZAKI SAKUNO in bold white letters. On the other side of her shirt was a small metal pin, upon which was stamped the image of a gilded chrysanthemum resting on four silver leaves with three bars on either side: the insignia of a sergeant in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. 

Her lonely footsteps echoed through the great corridors of Seigaku Station. Looking out of the huge picture windows, Sakuno could see wind-driven rain falling from a sky as dark and as heavy as sheets of beaten lead. Pity. Right about now the heavens would have been ablaze in hues of bright yellow and orange as the dying rays of the setting sun cast one final, glorious burst of radiance over the entire landscape. For one brief moment, the dark scenery was lit by a flash of lightning, though it quickly subsided into obscurity as a roll of thunder boomed overhead. 

Pausing by the stairs, she reached into her travelling bag and pulled out a slip of paper that bore the text of the e-mail her grandmother had sent her the previous night. The message was terse, but not unfriendly: _You won't find any buses when you arrive tomorrow afternoon, so I'll come by the station and fetch you myself. Meet me by the East Entrance. Have a safe journey._

Sakuno stuffed the e-mail into her pocket and smiled. Four months away from home – oh, how good it felt to be back! But the time she spent in Osaka was well worth all that rigorous training, the sleepless nights, the plain food and abusive language . . . yes, the police training facility there was the best in Japan. She felt confident that her special experience would enable her to swap those sergeant's stripes on her shoulder for a lieutenant's insignia before the year was out. 

The vast entrance lobby was almost deserted. Rather than having to jostle her way through the rush-hour crowds that normally milled about there, Sakuno had no difficulty in making her way to the East Entrance. She put her bags down on the floor and leaned against a column within sight of the driveway. 

Half an hour later, the young police officer was nervously pacing the floor, looking up with increasing regularity at the large digital clock suspended over the entrance. 17:22. 17:32. 17:38. 17:42. 17:43. The minutes ticked by one after another in an interminable procession, and still there was no sign of her grandmother – or of any living soul, for that matter. Sakuno felt that she was the only person left in the station building, which with the inadequate lighting grew progressively darker as the evening wore on. 

It should come as no surprise, then, that the voice she heard at precisely 17:51 gave her such a fright. 

"Excuse me . . . that shoulder badge – you're a police sergeant, right? How can I get to Seigaku police HQ?" 

Startled, Sakuno turned around and found herself looking into the pale golden eyes of a man who, as far as she could gather, was not much older than she was. Dressed in a light grey trench coat belted loosely at the waist, her unexpected companion would have looked every bit like a young film noir detective were it not for the bright red T-shirt that peeked through the open collar of his coat and the white baseball cap perched on top of his slightly bowed head. From underneath the cap sprouted several tufts of unkempt hair that was of a most unusual colour – dark green, it seemed, though in the dim light it was difficult to tell. 

"A-are you talking to me?" she blurted out nervously. 

"Of course. You don't see any other police sergeants around, do you? So, could you give me directions? I need to be at the Seigaku crime lab within an hour." 

All of a sudden, Sakuno felt a rush of warm blood surge into her cheeks. She knew the answer to his query – but for some reason it was difficult to get the right words out. 

"Er . . . well, I'd advise you to take the No. 7 bus, except that there aren't any buses today." 

"I'll walk." 

"B-But it's several miles away! And it's raining cats and dogs out there." 

"I don't mind. So, what's the most direct route? A fellow passenger said something about the Hamaguchi Bridge." 

"Ha-Hamaguchi? Umm . . . I think it's that way," Sakuno said uncertainly, pointing towards the West Entrance. 

"Thank you." The oddly-dressed young man – barely more than a boy, really – pulled up the collar of his trench coat, marched to the other side of the station building and vanished into the rainstorm. 

_Who was that man?_ Sakuno wondered, her mind unable to banish the vivid memory of two unblinking eyes under a crown of dark green hair. The image and the question remained with her up to the moment when she caught a glimpse of her grandmother's black Mercedes sedan pulling up to the East Entrance. 

"_Obaasan!_" Sakuno called out, a broad smile breaking over her face as she gathered her things and walked towards the red-haired woman who stepped out of the car. "I've been waiting ages for you." Suddenly remembering her place, she bowed and said, "Forgive me, Superintendent Ryuzaki." 

"Oh, that's quite all right, Sergeant Ryuzaki," her grandmother said in a friendly voice as she gave Sakuno a mighty hug. "In fact, I'm the one who needs to apologise. I would have arrived sooner, but Captain Tezuka and I were summoned to the Commissioner-General's office this morning for an important conference. A fine time for my mobile phone to break down, too. So," she said, giving the young police officer a once-over while struggling to open a large umbrella, "how are you?" 

"Rather stressed out, I'm afraid," Sakuno admitted as she followed the superintendent down the East Entrance ramp. "But four months at the Osaka police training facility and at central HQ in Tokyo should give me quite an edge when I resume my duties here." 

They got into the car and drove off through the pouring rain. As the elder Ryuzaki manoeuvred around a corner, Sakuno noticed that they were heading in an unfamiliar direction, away from the streets leading to the western district where Seigaku Police HQ stood. She pointed this out to her grandmother. 

"Ah, the Hamaguchi Bridge and its approaches are closed for major repairs. There's also a huge protest march near Murayama Park – it's still on, I'm told, even with this terrible weather – so the streets all around are packed with people. We need to take an alternate route through the eastern district for about a mile, then drive back west along the coastal road and across the Kiyoura Causeway." The superintendent shook her head. "I pity any poor soul who tries to make his way west by the old route; he'd lose an hour or two just trying to get back to the railway station." 


	2. A Chance Meeting

Disclaimer: Characters from PoT were created by Konomi Takeshi. Gil Grissom belongs to CBS (or to whoever thought of CSI, for that matter). 

First in a _possible_ series of semi-independent stories involving the Seigaku regulars as night-shift crime scene investigators. No actual sleuthing in this episode, I'm afraid -- just introductions (to lay the groundwork for any future episodes that might come up). Reviews are appreciated. 

A word of thanks to the first two reviewers. Your comments are quite encouraging. 

Take note: no shounen-ai is intended or implied. Pairings are strictly professional, or (at the most) friendly. Fangirling in our family is the exclusive preserve of my sister. 

For the benefit of readers, I've added a brief description of the crime lab's layout to this chapter. Scroll to the bottom of the page to read it. 

Enjoy. 

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_Note to self: Never take directions from girls with red hair. Especially ones who blush while you're talking to them._

Walking at a slow but steady pace, Echizen Ryoma hauled his aching body over metre after metre of wet pavement, his legs threatening to give way at any moment. The young man had been rushing about the suburb of Seigaku for much of the late afternoon, in the middle of what may well have been the worst summer rainstorm on record. From the railway station to Murayama Park, where he spent the best part of an hour cutting a path through the thickest crowd he had seen in his life. From the park to the pedestrian ramp of Hamaguchi Bridge, which turned out to be closed for repair work. From the useless bridge back through the crowded park and into Seigaku Station. From the station to a tourist centre in the eastern district which gave him the information he needed. A passing delivery truck took him as close to his destination as it could, but from where he disembarked the weary youth still had nearly a mile to go. 

_If I ever see that sergeant again, I'd give her a tongue lashing she won't soon forget._

Not that he would. No, he didn't care enough about people to be angry with them for more than a day or so. Excepting his worthless father, of course. 

Half-carrying, half-dragging his sodden backpack over the damp concrete, Ryoma negotiated a corner and saw what he was looking for. In the distance reared a massive structure of glass and steel, shining brightly with internal lighting through the pitch blackness of a stormy night. A nearby road sign identified the building beyond any shadow of a doubt. 

TOKYO METROPOLITAN POLICE – SEIGAKU DISTRICT HEADQUARTERS.

Summoning every remaining ounce of his strength, Ryoma made for the building with a final burst of speed. But there wasn't much left in him at that point, and as he struggled onto the pavement that bordered the police station's grounds his knees finally buckled. Sprawled out on a dirty ribbon of concrete, abandoned and alone in the streets of an unfamiliar city, the young man could do nothing more but lift himself up onto his elbows and begin to crawl towards the building that hovered so tantalisingly close. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty. _Just ten more . . . ten bloody feet and you're there._

Then, just before he arrived at the entrance, something in an empty waiting shed caught his eye. A vending machine. The sign in front of it was partially obscured by grime, but the single word printed there – of which just two letters were visible – drew him closer like a moth to the flame. 

_P-O- . . . No. It couldn't be._

He stood up on wobbly legs and edged closer, eyes wide open and brimming with weary tears. One waterlogged coat sleeve struck out and brushed away some of the detritus that covered the sign, revealing the last three letters. 

_It is._

Fishing a coin out of his pocket, Ryoma struggled to drop it through the narrow slot. He pushed a button and stepped back. 

A few seconds slipped by. Nothing happened. 

_No._ The young man approached the machine and beat on it furiously with his fists. _No, don't do this to me! I need that drink!_

Just then, the noises of metal objects clicking and clanking within the machine reached his ears. A familiar sound came to him – the sound of a heavy beverage tin falling into the open receptacle at the bottom. He reached in, grasped the cool aluminium cylinder with his shaking hand, then held it up to the light. 

_Peach Ponta._

The next few moments were among the most satisfying of his life. 

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Feeling utterly refreshed, with a quarter-litre of dangerously sweet liquid charging through his veins and giving him renewed vigour, Ryoma mounted the long flight of dark granite steps in front of the station building. He swept through the revolving glass door that led into the lobby, leaving trails of muddy water all over the pristine marble floor as he darted towards the front desk. 

In response to his query, an extremely irritated receptionist jabbed her finger towards a lift marked "Underground Levels 1-5". Ryoma entered, punched the right button, and endured four seconds of mind-numbing music before emerging onto the floor where Seigaku CSI was located. 

As he walked into the foyer, Ryoma ran into a small group of tired-looking people clad in black jackets. One of them whispered to the other, "You know, Shinji, if I ever see that bloody bike-thief again it'll be too soon. What does An-chan see in him, I wonder? I don't even know why they'd let a born criminal like that work in the police force." 

"I don't know why I'm working here, either. Or at least I think I know, because my father's a government official and he wants me to enter public service. My mother always wanted me to pursue a degree in rhetoric instead – said it would help improve my public speaking skills. Though I can't see why my public speaking skills need improving, since I'm not a bad speaker. You don't think I'm a bad speaker, do you, Captain Kamio? Or if you do, you've never said anything about it. Maybe you did say something about it but I wasn't listening at the time so I didn't quite catch what you were trying to say. And . . ." He trailed off when he and his colleagues caught sight of the bedraggled Ryoma trying to sneak past them undetected. 

A tall man with closely-cropped hair – presumably the leader of the group – looked at him with pity and asked, "Are you lost, young man? This area is off-limits to visitors. I'm afraid you'll have to go back up to the central lobby if you need to file a complaint or something." 

"I'm not lost," Ryoma snapped, turning on him with barely concealed irritation. Seeing the small gilded crest of a police captain on the other person's collar, he bowed, reached into his pocket and drew out a dripping piece of paper. "My apologies, Captain. I meant no disrespect. But this might interest you." 

The man gingerly took the wet document and read it with little enthusiasm. He looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes, then re-read the paper from beginning to end. 

"I see," the officer said, carefully folding the document before handing it back. He turned to his companions and announced, "Let me be the first to introduce you to our new colleague. This is Sergeant Echizen Ryoma, CSI Seigaku's newest field agent. He'll be working in the night shift." Turning back to Ryoma, the man extended his arm and said, "Captain Tachibana Kippei, supervisor of the day shift. My men and I are normally gone by six, but Superintendent Ryuzaki – you'll meet her later – kept us here for a briefing." 

Ryoma shook his hand and said, "Sir, I really need to find Captain Tezuka of the night shift. I was supposed to report to him three hours ago. Could you direct me to his office?" 

"I'll do better than that," Captain Tachibana said in a friendly voice. "I'll take you there myself. As for the rest of you, go on ahead to the lobby. We'll meet there in five minutes." 

_Heh, they seem like a fairly interesting bunch_, Ryoma thought as the members of the day shift filed into the waiting lift car. _And why does that long-haired fellow keep mumbling to himself? I'd better find out more about them once I settle in._

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A word on the "set": The Crime Laboratory is housed in a subterranean facility underneath the station building of Seigaku Police Headquarters. Two intersecting corridors – forming a cross with arms of equal length – divide the lab into four quadrants, in the following order (moving anti-clockwise from the upper-left corner): A, B, D, C. The main entrance (reached by stairs or by lift) leads into the corridor between A-section and B-section. Another entrance (stairs only) may be found at the other end of the facility, near sections C and D. 

More information to come (on office locations, etc.) in future chapters. Now if I could only find the time to write them . . . 


	3. Two Minutes with the Captain

Disclaimer: Characters from PoT were created by Konomi Takeshi. Gil Grissom belongs to CBS, Jerry Bruckheimer, or whoever else might have come up with the idea of "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation". 

First in a _possible_ series of semi-independent stories involving the Seigaku regulars as night-shift crime scene investigators. No actual sleuthing in this episode, I'm afraid -- just introductions (to lay the groundwork for any future episodes that might come up). I haven't had much time to polish up this chapter though, so I might find it necessary to replace it with an updated version at some future date. Reviews are appreciated. 

On relative ages: I'm sorry if I've left everyone in the dark as to how old the characters are. In my head, I've kept them just as they appear in the anime, with only slight modifications. One could say that Ryoma and other _ichinen_ characters are in their early twenties, the second-years (Momo, Kaidoh) are twenty-seven or thereabouts, and the junior third-year officers (Kikumaru, Kawamura, Inui and Fuji) are in their early thirties. Tezuka and Oishi should be approximately thirty-five years old. 

A quick preview for one of the reviewers: Ryoma _might_ have a brief encounter with Sakuno in the next chapter, and I've got her lined up for a prominent role in one of the future episodes. 

To my sister (if she's reading this): Don't worry, your favourite blue-eyed prodigy will be in either Chapter Four or Five. Let's see if you'll like the role I've assigned him to play, though . . . (heh, heh) 

As before, no shounen-ai is intended or implied. 

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**Chapter III: Two Minutes with the Captain**

From the main entrance, Captain Tachibana led Ryoma down a brightly-lit hallway with doors on either side. Most of the walls that bordered the corridor were nothing more than large floor-to-ceiling windows of tinted plate glass, held in place by stout metal frames. "That's A-section on your left," he explained as they walked, "where you'll find the reception desk and Superintendent Ryuzaki's office. Through here is the lounge, where the officers and staff members go on breaks or for meetings. They've installed a vending machine and coffee maker so you needn't burden yourself with beverages when you come to work . . ." 

"Do they have Ponta?" Ryoma asked without thinking. 

"Sorry?" 

"Never mind." 

"Hmm. Well, adjacent to that are the washrooms and storage lockers. I'd advise you to leave your backpack there after visiting Captain Tezuka's office." 

Ryoma turned to look through the open doors of the lounge. Inside, he saw a young officer with spiny black hair sitting at one end of a long table, happily working his way through a massive pile of hamburgers. The man looked up and waved at Captain Tachibana. 

"Oi, Captain!" he bellowed, wiping ketchup off his mouth and waving a half-eaten bun in the air. "Care for a hamburger? Lieutenant Kikumaru's treat!" 

"No thanks, Sergeant Momoshiro. I need to run off in a few minutes, after I show this new recruit to Tezuka's office." 

"Okay, more for me then!" the junior officer exclaimed as he unwrapped another sandwich. "Hey, and if you see that _other_ day-shift captain whose name I shall not speak, tell him that I'm not paying for the damage to his bicycle. I was pursuing a thief in the line of duty! He can charge it to Superintendent Ryuzaki, or better yet . . ." 

"Right, I'll be sure to give him the message. Let's carry on, shall we?" Captain Tachibana whispered to Ryoma as he guided him away from the lounge. 

". . . and for _his_ information, that so-called 'date' was all An-chan's idea! _She_ called _me_!" 

The captain gestured to his right. "This is B-section. The first door we passed on our way from the foyer is mine, and the one after that leads into Captain Kamio Akira's office. He's the assistant day-shift supervisor. Lieutenant Ibu Shinji, my head field agent . . ." 

"Is he the one who mumbles a lot?" enquired Ryoma, remembering the insignia on the long-haired officer's collar. 

"Er, yes. That's the one. He uses the next room. Junior field agents like yourself are assigned cubicles in a single large office, through those double-doors marked B-4." 

They arrived at an intersection and turned right. "These rooms are allotted to the night shift officers," explained Captain Tachibana. "B-5 – that's Lieutenant Kikumaru Eiji's office. Mark it well; he's the head field agent and your immediate superior. Captain Oishi Syuichiroh, the assistant supervisor, works in B-6. Ah, here we are." 

The officer knocked three times on a door marked B-7. This office, like all the others, had walls of tinted glass – except that it was also equipped with white Venetian blinds for privacy. They were drawn shut. 

_A secretive sort of fellow_, Ryoma mused. 

Captain Tachibana opened the door a crack and thrust his head into the office. 

"Tezuka, the new field agent is here." 

"Thank you, Tachibana. You may show him in." 

"Oh, and one other thing . . ." 

"Yes?" 

"He's had a long day. You might want to go easy on him." 

Ryoma entered and stood in silence as Captain Tachibana closed the door behind him. The office was rather spacious, but plainly furnished: bookcases on the left wall, two filing cabinets on the right, a fully-equipped computer workstation by the door. Simple, dark grey carpeting with no visible decoration. In the middle of the room stood a desk fashioned out of glass and steel with edge trim of polished chrome. Everything was immaculately neat. Even the potted plants that peeked out of the corners of the room looked unusually well-behaved. 

He turned his attention to the desk. One chair for visitors, rather than the usual two. Black telephone, black table lamp, silver pen, white notepad. A thick document folder bound in black leather. All arranged in perfectly straight lines, either parallel to or perpendicular to each other. Everything was in a distinct shade of black or white – almost nothing in between. This was the den of someone who didn't have the word "compromise" in his dictionary. There was one splash of colour though: a small framed photograph hanging on the back wall. Grandfather, parents, and an unsmiling young man in sensible clothes. _Family portrait?_ Ryoma asked himself. 

Behind the desk sat a man – or, at least, an extraordinarily realistic statue of one. No living person could possibly look so devoid of life. Wreathed in a halo of pale lilac light from an overhead lamp, the sculpted image of a bespectacled human being sat perfectly still, the only motion coming from the gentle swishing of its polished bronze hair in the disturbance caused by a nearby air-conditioning vent. 

The statue blinked. Its finely chiselled features softened as a pair of dark brown eyes settled on Ryoma. 

"Hn. You are a sorry sight." 

"I know." 

"And you're late." 

"I know." Remembering who he was speaking to, Ryoma bowed and uttered a quick "_Sumimasen._" 

"I don't tolerate tardiness," spoke the man in a level tone as he adjusted his glasses. "Neither do I enjoy seeing people leave wet footprints all over my office floor. Normally I'd ask you to run fifty laps around the station building, but since this is your first day I shall waive your punishment. Be warned: it isn't my habit to make exceptions, not even for new recruits." 

"I understand." 

The senior officer stood up and extended his left arm over the table. "Captain Tezuka Kunimitsu, night shift supervisor of Seigaku CSI." 

"Echizen Ryoma." They shook hands and sat down. 

"I've been examining the dossier that Inui-san forwarded to me prior to your arrival," Tezuka said as he opened the document folder on his desk and leafed through its contents. "Echizen Ryoma. Father Echizen Nanjiroh, mother Takeuchi Rinko. Birthday 24th December, left-handed, blood type O . . ." – he skipped a few lines, resuming with "Educational Record. High school diploma, Seishun Gakuen . . . hmm, everything from that point on takes place in the United States. Bachelor of Science in Criminology, UCLA. Master's degree in Criminal Justice, Rice University." 

He turned several pages, then stopped. "So you've spent the last two years training at the Las Vegas Police Department's Crime Laboratory, under Gil Grissom. I know him well; he was my mentor during the five years I spent in America. Your LVPD performance assessments are all quite favourable – and Grissom-san is a man from whom it is difficult to win genuine praise – so I shall expect nothing but the best from you." 

"Yes, sir." 

"And I suppose you've familiarised yourself with our rules and regulations using the manual that was posted to you last week." 

"Yes," Ryoma replied without hesitation. _At least I tried to – but then I fell asleep after the first three pages_, he thought with mischievous pleasure. _Karupin tore everything else to shreds._

Captain Tezuka closed the dossier and pushed it aside. "Well, I suppose there is nothing left for us to discuss. I'll leave your orientation to Field Agent Momoshiro. He will show you around the crime lab and introduce you to some of the people you'll be working with. Meet him at the lounge in A-section. That is all." 


	4. The Viper and the SnakeCharmer

Disclaimer: Characters from PoT were created by Konomi Takeshi, etc., etc. You know the rest. 

Sorry for the delay! I'll dispense with a full account of my recent troubles; suffice it to say that an audit internship prevented me from keeping things up-to-date. A lack of fresh PoT fansubs and my rising interest in other anime series (Peacemaker Kurogane in particular) also contributed to a short-term decline of enthusiasm for the project on my part, though after seeing a few raw episodes (including the latest chibi special, #132) I'm now more than happy to pick up where I left off. 

Things seem to be moving far too slowly, even for me (and I'm the blasted author!), so I'll try to wrap things up in the introductory episode as soon as possible. Work on Episode 2 (the first _real_ case) is already underway, though progress has been rather erratic at best because I've had so little time to spare. If all goes well, I might post the first two chapters at the same time that I put up the concluding sections of Episode 1. 

I know this chapter isn't quite up to my usual standard; I'll revise it when I get the opportunity to do so. 

In any case, a tight academic schedule for the next few weeks means that after the next chapter, I might not be able to submit another update for a while -- and for this I apologise. 

To my sister (if she's reading this): Sorry, Ol' Blue Eyes won't make an appearance here yet. Chapter Six, perhaps?

* * *

**Chapter IV: The Viper and the Snake-Charmer**

Keeping his eyes on the ground, Ryoma walked away from Captain Tezuka's office towards A-section. But before he had even gotten halfway towards the central intersection, the young man collided with -- something. 

"Fshuu . . . watch where you're going!" growled a voice from somewhere above him. 

Ryoma took a couple of steps back before looking up at whatever had blocked his path. The obstruction was, in fact, another police officer -- though he certainly didn't look the part, dressed as he was in a sleeveless blue shirt and scruffy denim pants that looked none the worse for wear. With his head tightly bound in a green bandana that concealed everything above his forehead, the man carried the appearance of a round-topped serpent poised to pounce upon some hapless mouse who had foolishly strayed across his path. The vengeful scowl on his face alone could have sunk a thousand ships and burnt cities to the ground. 

Without waiting for an apology, the stranger opened the door marked B-6 and slipped into a large, comfortably furnished office. Ryoma didn't have enough time to get a proper look before the door slammed back into place, but his quick eyes saw enough to tell him that this amounted to an antithesis of Captain Tezuka's spartan accommodations. The well-lit room had been painted in light pastel colours, with photographs and framed paintings covering nearly every available square inch of wall space. On one side (looking distinctly out of place) stood an old-fashioned reclining couch, complete with tooled leather upholstery held in place by brass studs -- an artefact that could easily have come straight from Sigmund Freud's private study. Near the far wall was a large wooden desk, behind which sat a man with hair so closely cropped that it looked as though a black swimming cap had been permanently stuck onto his head. Two stray locks protruded from the "cap" and hung limply above his face. 

Feeling no urge to hurry on, Ryoma lingered outside the office for a while and caught snatches of conversation from within (which wasn't difficult since the room hadn't been soundproofed). Ordinarily, his lack of interest in people kept him from eavesdropping on their petty, irrelevant conversations -- but then again, one never knew when the odd piece of information (unsavoury or otherwise) might come in handy around the workplace. 

"Ah, Kaidoh-kun!" said the occupant cheerfully. "So good of you to come and visit me. " 

"But you _ordered_ me to come for my performance review, Oishi-san." 

Failing to heed that remark, the other man plowed on. "Not at all, not at all -- always a pleasure to spend some quality time with fellow CSIs. Would you care for some tea, or coffee, or . . ." 

"No, thank you. I'm fine." Contrary to expectations, the serpent-man actually managed to sound genuinely polite. 

"Well, how about some pastries? Fuji-san made another batch of his delicious lotus-cream cakes yesterday . . ." 

"No, thank you. I just ate." 

"In that case, let us proceed with your bi-monthly performance review -- unless there is something else you'd like to talk about, of course." Through a chink in the Venetian blinds, Ryoma saw him patting the enormous leather couch. "Any problems you'd wish to share? Grievances? Positive experiences? Traumatic encounters? You're more than welcome to lie down for a bit and tell me." 

"Fshuu . . . no complaints here, Captain Oishi." 

"Are you sure?" The other officer sounded extremely concerned. "You know it's not nice to keep things bottled up inside one's mind. If there's anything you need to talk to me about, anything at all, just remember that my-" 

"I know, I know, Oishi-san. Your door is always open. Fshuu." His repeated hissing was beginning to grate on Ryoma's nerves. 

"Exactly. Now then . . ." There was the sound of paper being shuffled about. "As you know, I took the liberty of sending a copy of the evaluation report to you three days ago, so we needn't go over the first chapter. I'd also like to congratulate you for receiving such high overall ratings. Your handling of the Hyotei Heights case last month appears to have impressed Chief Superintendent Ishikawa, who I'm sure is considering you for promotion even as we speak." 

"Ah, thank you." 

"However, there is a need for us to discuss one or two points for improvement. Well, three or four." More shuffling of paper. "Uh, make that five. Pages, that is." 

There was no verbal reaction from the other man, though Ryoma could almost feel the tension rising on the other side of the door. 

"Most of them have something to do with your -- forgive me, Kaidoh-kun, I'm only quoting from the report -- 'insociable attitude, often bordering on hostility, towards our newer staff members'. For instance, I have a complaint here from SPO Kachi- er, a certain junior officer who says, _and I quote_: 'I was running towards the superintendent's office and accidentally tripped on his shoe the other day, but when I tried to apologise, he just gave me THAT LOOK and hissed at me! I tell you, that man gives me the chills . . .' 

"Another SPO wrote: 'In my two years of glorious police experience, during which I've brought hundreds of bloodthirsty criminals to justice and singlehandedly battled with some of Japan's worst Yakuza gangsters-', well, the young fellow goes on like this for a couple of pages, so let me skip down to the important bit, '-I have never encountered anyone as scary as him! Here I was, saying a couple of innocent jokes about the weird, ugly, evil-looking, bandana-wearing CSI down at the crime lab, when he suddenly pops up out of nowhere, hisses, roars like a caged beast and chases me and my friends all around the station! Then Captain Tezuka reprimands us for bumping into him and orders us to run 50 laps round the complex, and _that_ man has the nerve to blame it all on me! Oh, one of these days he'll throttle me to death when no-one's looking, I just know it . . .'" 

The one called Kaidoh remained utterly speechless. The one called Oishi took the initiative and broke the silence. 

"Now then, what are you going to do about this, Kaidoh-kun?" 

"Fshuu . . . first, I'm going to teach those Ichinen a lesson . . ." 

"Tut, tut, tut. What did I tell you about fighting?" 

Kaidoh muttered a stream of choice invectives under his breath (thus instantly enriching Ryoma's curse vocabulary), then spoke as if reciting from a script: "'Fighting never solves anything. It is better to settle disputes in a peaceful, proactive manner. And as always, one must be a good listener.' Fshuu." 

"That's the spirit, Kaidoh-kun! And just so you know, I heard everything you said before that. Now what did I tell you about cursing?" 

"Fshuu . . . 'If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.'" _Oh bugger, the man's acting like my primary school counsellor._

"Wonderful! I see that my weekly 'Let's Be Nice To Our Workmates' lectures have had some effect on you after all. Now in order to patch things up with the three young officers who've filed complai- I mean, who've been so kind as to help point out your weaknesses so that you could overcome them, I've arranged for you to handle a case together with them after your current assignments have been completed." 

"Whaat! I'm not spending any quality time with those bumbling morons!" 

"Oh yes, you are, Kai-doh-kun." Oishi said it very patiently, though for some reason this added a threatening note to his otherwise cheerful voice. "Trust me. You'll enjoy it. The Ichinen Trio were a trifle reluctant to go along with my idea -- kept saying something about you tearing their arms off -- but I'm sure there won't be any reason for concern, will there?" 

"Fshuu . . . not when I'm through with them," Kaidoh muttered. 

"What was that, Kaidoh-kun?" 

"N-nothing, Oishi-san." 

"Excellent. Help yourself to some sweets on your way out; I know how much you love these cat-shaped lollipops. Have a nice day!"

* * *

Quick character preview for Chapter 5: Eiji, Momo, and Sakuno. (And Ryoma, of course.) I'm hoping to get it up by Thursday. 


	5. Making Acquaintances

Disclaimer: Characters from PoT were created by Konomi Takeshi, etc., etc. You know the rest. 

Here's Chapter Five -- a little behind schedule. (Gomen nasai!) There might not be any updates for a while, but if all goes well I'll be back within a fortnight. As with the previous two chapters, this one is rather coarse around the edges and will probably be revised if I get the chance to do so. 

The headlines in the _Rokkaku Shimbun_ are meant as teasers for future cases, crime scenes, victims and suspects. (It's not a comprehensive list, of course -- I intend to feature all PoT teams and players at some point or another.)

* * *

**Chapter V: Making Acquaintances**

The glass doors of the lounge were closed. Ryoma reached out to turn the knob, but he hesitated as the sound of raised voices blew out into the corridor. A couple of passers-by heard the noise and paused for a moment to see what the fracas was all about. 

"I say, what's going on in there?" one of them asked the other. 

"Hmm, sounds like Lieutenant Kikumaru and Burger Boy are at it again." 

"At _what_ again, exactly?" 

"Turtle wrestling. The lieutenant randomly selects two of his pet turtles and puts them in an aquarium, then he and Momo-chan watch to see which of them manages to overturn the other. Ten hamburgers on each, winner takes all. Not a very exciting sport if you ask me, but Kikumaru-san feels sorry for his little babies if they stay in the police station pond for too long with nothing to do, so he gives them a chance to stretch their legs now and then. As for Momo, well . . ." 

"He'll jump at any chance to get a free meal." 

"Right." 

"So what's the record like?" 

"A tie or thereabouts, probably. I wonder who'll win this time . . ." 

Trying not to make any noise, Ryoma quietly slipped into the lounge and pushed the door closed behind him. There were just two people in the room, both of whom were huddled over a large glass box that had been placed on the large central table. One of them was the man Captain Tachibana had called Momoshiro. The other didn't look at all familiar -- light build; dark, rather longish auburn hair; a small white plaster on his right cheek. After seeing the badge of a senior officer on the man's coat, Ryoma decided that this must be Lieutenant Kikumaru. 

"Ha! Looks like I'll be laughing all the way to the burger bank today, Kikumaru-san," Momo said confidently. "Your puny little turtle couldn't possibly beat mine." 

"Unya! We haven't lost yet!" The lieutenant pressed his face against the glass wall of the aquarium. "That's it! Right there! Push him over! Just because your opponent is big doesn't mean you should be scared!" 

The larger turtle managed to climb up onto the shell of its much smaller adversary, pinning it down. But with an incredible burst of strength, the little turtle reared up on its forelegs and flipped the other one over, rendering it completely helpless. No matter how hard its stubby legs flailed in the air, it couldn't right itself again. 

"Hoi hoi! The little one prevails!" Eiji exclaimed triumphantly, punching the air with a clenched fist. He picked up the winning turtle and gently stroked its tiny head. "Well done, little fella! I knew you could do it." 

"Durrr . . .," Momo growled, slamming the table with his fist. He turned upon the larger turtle and bellowed: "Oi, how could you let that pipsqueak John get the better of you? He was half your size!" 

"Actually, this little fellow is Taro. _That's_ John. And don't talk like that to the poor turtle, nya!" 

Momo looked at the pile of hamburgers in front of him, sighed, and pushed the lot towards Eiji. 

"Nya, Momo! I can't finish all this by myself." He plucked a burger from the top and moved the rest -- including those from his own stack -- towards Momo. "Here. You can have them." 

"Really?" Without bothering to wait for an affirmatory response, Momo shouted "Itadakimasu!" as he tore the wrapper off a sandwich and took an enormous bite out of it. 

"Uh, you're welcome. Add that to the ones I bought for you earlier today, and that makes, oh, twenty-nine hamburgers in all." 

Momo tried to smile, which was a difficult thing to do for someone whose mouth was practically filled to bursting with half-chewed beef and soggy bread. "Mmf . . ." Swallow. "Oh yeah, thanks, Eiji-senpai." He immediately wolfed down the remains of the burger and moved to the next without pause. 

"Same old Momo," Eiji whispered, shaking his head as he sat down to read the latest issue of the _Rokkaku Shimbun_. As was his custom, the lieutenant skipped from one title to the next without spending more than a few seconds on a single article. 

YUKIMURA ELECTED MAYOR OF SEIGAKU BY A LANDSLIDE; SANADA NEW DEPUTY MAYOR 

JYOUSEI SHONAN INSTITUTE ON VERGE OF COLD FUSION BREAKTHROUGH 

ATOBE THEATRE OPENS FRIDAY; REAL ESTATE TYCOON'S SON EXPECTED TO ATTEND 

ST. RUDOLPH'S UNIVERSITY BEGINS ACADEMIC TERM TOMORROW 

'LUCKY' SENGOKU ON WINNING STREAK (AGAIN!) IN MONTE CARLO 

SEIGAKU'S FATHER OOTORI CHOUTAROU HONOURED BY VATICAN 

"Nya, what else is new?" He quickly flipped through the rest of the paper. "Now where is that Humour Page . . . ah, here it is." 

"Still reading those bad jokes by Davide-san?" Momo said between bites. The _Rokkaku Shimbun_'s Amane "David" Hikaru was universally reviled as Japan's worst jokesmith, though by the strange workings of the universe this made him incredibly popular. 

"Yes. I can't say whether they're good or bad, actually, since they don't make any sense." 

"Excuse me," Ryoma interrupted, deciding that the time was right to make his presence known. "Is there a Field Agent Momoshiro here? I was instructed by Captain Tezuka to meet him for my orientation." 

The two men looked up as one at the new arrival. "Heh, I haven't seen you around here before, kiddo! Are you a police trainee, _ochibi_?"enquired the one with the little bandage on his cheek. 

_Kiddo? Ochibi?_ Ryoma tried to keep his voice level. "No. Full field agent. Sergeant rank. My first day. And please don't call me that." 

"Call you what, _ochibi_?" 

Momo stopped chewing and tried to speak, but couldn't put out anything intelligible. A sodden piece of bun rolled out of his open mouth and fell on the table with an audible _splat_. 

"Chew, Momo. Chew and swallow. That's it. Now will you please get rid of that chunk of bread that just dropped out of your mouth! It's disgusting, nya!" 

"Sorry, Eiji-senpai," muttered the other man as he wiped the table with a paper napkin. Turning to Ryoma, he said, "So you're the new kid, eh? Inui-san told me about you yesterday." He shovelled a heap of discarded food wrappers into a dustbin and stood up to introduce himself. "I'm Momoshiro Takeshi, but I'd prefer it if you call me Momo-chan. No point in wasting time on long names, is there?" 

"Indeed." 

"And this is Lieutenant Kikumaru Eiji, head field agent." 

"Hoi hoi!" the cheerful officer exclaimed, waving at him from across the table. 

"He's in charge of treating the other field agents to hamburgers every Friday . . ." 

"Nya, Momo! That's not fair!" 

"Ah, but that's the price of power, Eiji-senpai. Keep your subjects loyal by giving them free food! Anyway, let me show you arouuu . . ." 

Momoshiro suddenly doubled over and clutched his stomach. A low growling noise rose out of his mouth, followed by a not-too-pleasant chorus of assorted bubbling sounds. "Aargh, I think I ate too fast . . ." 

"Or too much," Eiji remarked drily. He bent down to look at Momo's rapidly greening face and said, "Unya, you don't look too good. Probably just a touch of indigestion, but I'd better take you up to the infirmary just to be sure. Will you be okay here by yourself, _ochibi_? We'll be back in ten minutes if all's well." 

"I'll manage. And Lieutenant?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Please don't call me that."

* * *

Ryoma made his way towards an armchair and sat down, stretching out into a relaxed position. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the vending machine that hummed silently in the background. _Next time, bring more loose change, you idiot_, he cursed himself as his fingers probed empty pockets. But just as he was beginning to drift off to sleep, the young man felt something soft on his face and heard a timid voice trying to break into the quiet cocoon that fatigue had woven around him. 

"Uh, _anou_ . . ." 

He opened his eyes and looked up. Sakuno was bending over him, her long red hair brushing gently against his cheek. 

"I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you, E-Echizen-kun . . . that's right, isn't it? _Oba_- er, S-Superintendent Ryuzaki told me who you were." 

"Hmm, who are you?" Ryoma asked, glancing at her uninterestedly. He tilted his head ever so slightly to get it away from the young woman's flailing locks. 

"Huh?" _How could he forget so soon?_, Sakuno wondered. Her cheeks began to flush red again. "I, er . . . I'm the police officer you met at the station earlier today, remember? You asked me to, um, give you directions to Seigaku CSI." 

"Oh!" he exclaimed in mild surprise. Then, as memory of the encounter (and the unpleasant journey that followed) crept back into view, Ryoma gave her a mildly irritated look and pulled his cap over his eyes. 

"Uh, d-did you make it here on time?" she asked nervously, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. Some of it got caught on the sharp corners of her nameplate, so she removed the object and placed it on the central table. 

"No. Three hours late. If it were a tennis game, I'd have defaulted." 

"Oh. Did you, um, get into trouble with the captain?" 

"Of course. What do you think?" 

Sakuno knew only too well what it was like to get into trouble with Captain Tezuka. Trembling with remorse, the young woman stepped back and bowed deeply. "_Gomen nasai!_" she apologised, her voice breaking. "W-was it . . . was it because of me?" 

Ryoma sat up and looked at her. "Yeah, who else?" 

Not knowing what else to say, Sakuno tried to think of some way to salvage the situation. 

"Uh, w-would you like to have something to drink?" 

"Eh?"

* * *

Sakuno returned from the vending machine with two cans of chilled Grape Ponta. She sat down on an armchair beside the one Ryoma was using -- separated from his only by a small, glass-topped coffee table -- and wordlessly offered one of the beverage tins to him. 

"Thanks." He opened it and took a few, cautious sips. His eyes remained fixed on some imaginary point in the distance. 

"So, umm . . . h-how was your first day, Ryoma-kun? Did anything interesting happen to you?" 

"Let me see. I got drenched in a rainstorm, was nearly crushed to death in a crowd, walked several miles through unfamiliar territory and arrived several hours late for my appointment." He said this matter-of-factly, without any trace of anger in his voice. 

"Oh. I see. I-I'm really sorry about all this . . ." 

Ryoma shrugged. "I've been through worse." 

They spent the next few minutes engaged in small talk. Sakuno did most of the asking, timidly putting forth the usual questions about the young man's childhood, his education, his favourite songs and food and so on. Ryoma, for his part, spoke very little, and only after some mild prompting. It wasn't long before Sakuno began to wonder whether their "conversation" more closely resembled an interrogation -- albeit a friendly one -- than a casual exchange between acquaintances. 

"What are your parents like?" 

"Hnh, my mother's okay." 

"What about your father?" 

Sakuno immediately realised that this was not the right question to ask. A pair of pale golden eyes, alight with suppressed rage, swung around and fixed themselves upon her own. She found herself overcome with the acute feeling that his penetrating gaze could slice the building around them in half. 

"What of him?" he asked stiffly. 

"Uh . . . I didn't, I mean . . ." 

Ryoma turned his head and looked away. "I'd rather not talk about that man." 

"Oh." _I wonder . . ._

She quickly changed the subject. "Have you ever had any close friends?" 

"No, not really." _Do cats count, though?_ he wondered, taking a long, thoughtful sip of Ponta. People have always pointed out how he seemed to get along with Karupin better than he did with other human beings, but this never troubled him in the least. His old mentor Gil Grissom was a lot more interested in bugs than in most of his two-legged colleagues, and he saw nothing wrong about that. There are times when animals make better companions. 

Ryoma lowered his can and looked at her intently. "Why are you asking me all this?" 

The question made Sakuno feel a little uneasy. Up to that point, she'd failed to realise that nearly all of the questions came from her. "W-well, I thought that since we'd be working together, I should get to know you better. Y-you know, making acquaintances whenever new people come in. No harm in that, is there?" 

"I suppose not." He leaned back and began to finish off the last of his drink. 

_Now's your chance_, a voice whispered in Sakuno's head. "Have you . . . no, I mean, do you like someone in particular? It's, well . . . um, what I'm trying to ask is if you've ever had, you know, a really special friend?" she ventured. It wasn't her habit to ask questions of this sort, but then she'd never met anyone as intriguing as Ryoma-kun before. 

"No, I don't like anyone in particular." His forehead creased in thought. "And I'm not entirely sure of what you mean, but I guess I've never had any 'special friend'." 

"Oh!" Sakuno exclaimed, her mood brightening. 

"In fact, I don't really care very much about people in general," he said bluntly. "They tend to get in my way, so I avoid coming into contact with them whenever I can. Making ordinary friends is bothersome enough, and I'm guessing that making a 'special friend' will take twice the trouble." Another sip. "I just don't see the point." 

"Oh." She looked crestfallen. "So, um, well . . . oh, i-it doesn't matter." 

Ryoma looked at her quizzically, then drained his can and tossed it into a nearby dustbin. "Well, thanks for the Ponta." 

"S-sure. No, um . . . no problem." 

As the young man settled back into the armchair to resume his interrupted nap, Sakuno edged towards the lounge door and slowly turned the knob. _Well, you've made quite a fool of yourself, didn't you? Just be thankful that he didn't send you away at first sight._

"Hey, you." 

She turned around with a start and saw him standing before her. "Oh, Ryoma-kun! W-what is it?" 

"You left this on the table." He took Sakuno's hand and dropped her nameplate into the open palm. 

"Um, thank you," she said gratefully, pinning the object back onto her uniform. "S-so I guess I'll see you around?" 

"I should have thought that was obvious. We work in the same building, don't we?" 

"Uh, yeah, I suppose that's right. Well, 'bye for now then." 

As she turned to leave, Sakuno heard Ryoma mumble something to himself. Though his words hovered on the very edge of her hearing, it did more to lift her spirits than anything else that had transpired between them that night. 

"Ryuzaki Sakuno. Sa-ku-no." He mouthed each syllable carefully, like a child trying out new sounds for the very first time. "Heh, that's a lovely name." 

A healthy flush of pink lighting up her cheeks, the young woman closed the door with a barely audible _click_ and silently drifted away.

* * *

Well, that's all for now. Of course, I don't believe for a moment that anime-Ryoma hates his father as much as I've made out in this story (he's probably just ashamed of him, at most), but I think this little plot device might come in handy for a future episode. 

As I've said in the opening note to Chapter 4, I shall try to put these introductory chapters out of the way as soon as possible so that I could move on to other episodes. Before the CSI series continues, however, I might breathe some life back into a PoT historical fanfic idea that I abandoned several months ago but that recently caught my attention once again, since my sister has agreed to collaborate with me on it. 

Quick character preview for Chapter 6: Fuji, Momo, and Ryoma. Inui and Kawamura might also make their debut here, or in the succeeding chapter.


	6. A Word of Advice

No time to post a detailed commentary or anything else for this one, I'm afraid. The last chapters of my undergraduate thesis require my full attention. 

I've finally decided to leave chapters one through four pretty much as they are, since I'm generally satisfied with them. Revision efforts will most likely be directed at chapters five and six. I'm not entirely content with those two -- especially _this one_ -- but if I don't keep things moving I might end up postponing updates to the story indefinitely. 

Fuji has always been something of an enigma for me. I find it difficult to imagine a conversation with him, so forgive me if the exchange between him and Ryoma in this chapter seems more than a trifle unconvincing. When my sister (the Fuji expert) is done cooing over her new puppy, perhaps I could persuade her to help me lay out a full dialogue once revision time comes around.

* * *

**Chapter VI: A Word of Advice**

"Nya, are you sure you're all right? Your face still looks a little green." 

"I'm fine, Eiji-senpai. Don't worry, I can make it back to the lounge on my own." 

The two officers walked through the entrance hall of the crime lab and headed straight for A-section. After confirming that Momoshiro had just suffered from a severe bout of dyspepsia, the station physician promptly ordered him to take antacids and gave him a special diet that would prevent future attacks. Needless to say, he had absolutely no intention of following the strict regimen. 

"'A one- or two-day fast, followed by a bland or mild diet, with gradual additions until the normal diet is restored'", Momo read from the slip of paper in his hand. "You've got to be kidding me! Why, I'd rather have ulcers than give up eating for more than three hours at a time! Anyway, you don't have to accompany me to the lounge, Kikumaru san -- the crisis has passed and I'm feeling much better now." 

"Well, if you're sure. In any case, I'd better head for my office and start sorting through all that paperwork. _Ja!_" 

Momo entered the lounge by himself and approached Ryoma, who had fallen asleep where he sat. 

"Oi, Echizen," he said, nudging the young man's foot. "Wake up, sleepy head." 

Ryoma opened his eyes and glanced upwards. "A, Momo-senpai. What do you want?" 

"Are you ready to begin your tour? But first, tell me where you've been so far." Momo dug into his pocket and fished out a bag of Jelly Babies, which he began to pop into his mouth two or three at a time. 

After Ryoma described his recent wanderings, the officer said: "So it appears that we needn't go through B-section, and there isn't much else to see in A-section apart from the lounge. We'd better start with C-section, then." 

They headed for the intersection and turned left. "This is C-section," Momo explained, chewing the head off a Jelly Baby. "The CSI facility has five laboratories, three of which are in this part of the building: the coroner's laboratory, the image and sound analysis laboratory, and the general workshop. Everyone uses the latter two, of course, but only one person holds sway over the first. And pretty much over the entire crime lab, if you ask me," he said conspiratorially. 

Ryoma wondered what he meant by that. 

-------------------- 

Momoshiro led him through a pair of gleaming stainless-steel doors with small windows of laminated glass set into them. The room they entered had everything that one would expect to find in a coroner's laboratory: metal autopsy table, X-ray equipment, surgical tools and so forth. Two sets of powerful lights, similar to those used in operating rooms, were suspended from a rack over the table. Along one side rose a massive wall of brushed steel lined with small doors – the refrigerated cabinets where corpses were stored prior to examination. The air felt dense, tinged as it was with faint traces of sickening odours, and the dull, bluish lighting contributed to the gloomy atmosphere that pervaded this room of death. 

"Um . . . Fuji-san?" Momoshiro called. "I'm here to introduce the new recruit." 

"Ah, yes," came a voice from an adjoining room. "I'll be with you in a moment, right after I take these cakes out of the oven." 

Ryoma felt strangely troubled by that voice. Calm and smooth, perhaps even effeminate, but with a dark – almost threatening – undercurrent that made him shiver in his trench coat. It hung in the air long after the person to whom it belonged had stopped speaking. The sort of voice an interrogator would use to befriend his prisoner before dipping him in boiling oil. 

The delicious scent of freshly-baked pastries wafted into the room and overpowered everything else. Momo sniffed the air and sighed longingly. "Ahh, Fuji-san's famous lotus-cream cakes." Seeing the puzzled look on the younger man's face, he said: "Believe me, Echizen-kun – those things are so delicious, we've stopped caring about the fact that he makes them next to a morgue." 

From one of the side doors emerged a man garbed in a white laboratory gown. Ryoma's brain, sensing that this was someone worth remembering, began to file away the necessary information: slight build; height just under average; pale skin; rich brown hair. He had the appearance of a twenty-year-old, though this was more than compensated for with the grace and confidence of someone much older. His eyelids were closed, and the face carried what seemed to be a permanent smile. 

But what struck Ryoma most about him were his eyes, which were revealed when the man began to study the young newcomer's face. They were of an unnatural shade of blue, mysterious and striking, like two jewels set into a field of burnished ivory. Though he had never seen them before, Ryoma had no trouble imagining that one could dive into those twin pools of unfathomable depth for hours on end and surface with not even the slightest clue as to what this person was thinking. A single glance from the unassuming coroner, on the other hand, would be enough for the man to find his way into other people's minds and probe their innermost thoughts. 

Echizen Ryoma had been at CSI Seigaku for less than six hours, and already he'd found two people who were capable of arousing genuine fear in him. 

_No wonder he works with the dead. The world of the living isn't ready for a man like this._

"Fuji-san, this is Field Agent Echizen Ryoma." 

"Pleased to meet you," the coroner said, shaking the young man's hand. "Dr. Fuji Syuusuke, medical examiner and chief crime scene photographer." 

"_Dozo_." A few gears clashed in Ryoma's head, prompting him to ask: "Medical examiner _and_ chief crime scene photographer?" 

"That's right," Fuji replied. "Photography has always been a hobby of mine -- well, more than a hobby, actually. Besides, there aren't nearly as many homicides in Seigaku as there are elsewhere in Tokyo, which means that there isn't much work for me as a coroner." He waved his hand vaguely at the wall of refrigerated cabinets behind them. "See those? They're all empty. Luckily I managed to convince Captain Tezuka to roll two positions into one so that I'd spend more time out of this stuffy lab." 

After the usual pleasantries, Fuji led his guests through the side door into his office, where he prepared to serve them some hot Earl Grey and small Chinese-style cakes filled with white lotus cream. 

Ryoma stood in the middle of the room while Fuji and Momo busied themselves with the trays. The office closely resembled that of Captain Tezuka in its dimensions, but it was better lit and more elegantly furnished. Everything, from the chairs to the well-stocked bookcases, spoke of good breeding and extraordinarily refined taste. Stunning photographs of landscapes, sunsets, and people of all sorts were arranged carefully on every wall. Towards the far end was a kitchenette with marble countertops and appliances coated in white enamel. A low shelf positioned beneath a false window -- complete with a computer-generated alpine backdrop -- held small, spiky green cacti in bright red pots. Some had been lovingly decorated with beige ribbons. 

"Beautiful view, isn't it?" Fuji said, appearing suddenly behind him. "Here, let's transform it into something that's a bit closer to home." He pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. The projected landscape instantly changed from snow-topped mountains to a traditional Japanese garden, with sparrows flitting about and cherry trees in full bloom. A hidden set of speakers added to the realism by producing appropriate sounds. 

They converged on a small coffee table by the window and sat down. Momoshiro's arm instinctively flew towards the cake tray, but Ryoma grabbed his wrist and pulled it back. 

"Hey, what was that about?" Momo asked him indignantly. "I'm hungry!" 

"Kikumaru-san whispered something to me when we passed the intersection on our way here. He says you're not supposed to eat anything tonight because of your bad stomach, and that I need to make sure that you stick to your diet." 

"WHAT!" 

"Ah, too bad, Momo." Fuji moved the platter away from him . . . 

"Nooooooo!" 

. . . and pushed it towards Ryoma. "Would _you_ like to have some?" 

"Thanks." He picked up a cake and began to nibble at it while Momo watched him enviously. "Hmm, this tastes good." 

"It's my speciality," Fuji said, taking a cake for himself. "An outer layer made of soft wheat-flour pastry, sweetened with fresh honey and brushed with beaten egg. The filling is moist lotus-seed cream . . ." 

Momo looked on as they ate, his mouth open and eyes brimming with tears. 

"C-Can't I have just one?" he pleaded with Ryoma. 

"No. I don't want to get into trouble with the lieutenant on my first day." 

"Fuji-san, just one little bite . . ." 

"No, _Mo-mo_." He smiled wickedly as he took another bite of cake. "Remember your diet." 

"Aaargh! I never could stand watching someone else eat when I can't!" He rushed out of the room, saying, "I'll wait in the damn corridor!" 

When they were alone, Ryoma said to Fuji, "You really laid it on quite thick there, didn't you? Describing the cake inside and out . . ." 

"Ah well. I enjoy seeing people suffer." There was no hint of malice in these words, only a childlike sense of amusement at the troubles befalling others. It almost seemed utterly _innocent_. 

_I can't let my guard down with him_, Ryoma thought as he raised a teacup to his mouth and took a tentative sip. His cynicism had progressed to the point that not even children could completely gain his trust. 

"Echizen Ryoma," Fuji said, putting the merest suggestion of emphasis on the family name. "Your name seems vaguely familiar to me." 

"I don't see how it could, Fuji-san. I haven't been in Japan for over a decade." 

"Are you by any chance related to Echizen Nanjiroh?" 

Ryoma nearly choked on his tea, but he managed to keep it down and feign a complete lack of concern. _How could he know that? Then again, Captain Tezuka had that dossier . . ._

"Your silence condemns you," Fuji told him gently. "A yes or no would have sufficed." 

"Echizen is not an uncommon surname," Ryoma said evasively. The unwavering smile that hovered on the older man's face was beginning to make him feel ill at ease. 

"Ah, but you see, I have complete access to Inui-san's information database. Your records clearly indicate that you were born to Takeuchi Rinko and . . ." 

"The name Nanjiroh isn't particularly hard to find, either." 

"Quite so. I must be thinking of a different Echizen Nanjiroh." Fuji idly divided a cake into four equal parts with a butter knife, then reassembled the pieces. "He's an intriguing character, you know. One of the few people in the world of criminalistics who've managed to pique my interest. They used to call him the '37-hour Samurai', since there wasn't a case he couldn't solve within thirty-seven hours. He was well within sight of a senior position in one of America's finest crime laboratories, but he suddenly resigned and withdrew from public life. No-one seems to know why the man left at the height of his career." He lifted a teacup and quietly sipped its contents. 

"If my memory serves me right," Fuji continued, "Nanjiroh-san left his post at about the same time you were born." He lowered the cup slightly and opened his eyes, staring at Ryoma over the gilt-edged rim. "And you were born in the United States, weren't you? An amazing set of coincidences, if I do say so myself." 

"Coincidences do happen." 

"Indeed they do." Fuji set the teacup down on a saucer and stood up, turning to face the window. "I look forward to working with you on your first case, Echizen-kun. I expect that it will be a very interesting experience." 

_For me or for you?_ Ryoma wondered. "If there's nothing else," he said, standing up, "I'd better take my leave. Momo-senpai hasn't finished introducing me to everyone in the lab yet." 

"Let me show you out, then." 

Fuji accompanied him all the way to the corridor. Momo stood just outside the doors of the laboratory, trying to ease his hunger pangs by munching on Jelly Babies. The pained expression on his face showed that he was having little success. 

"Oh, I don't think a cake or two will do any harm," Fuji said, smiling brightly. "Momo, I think you'll find some left over in my office." 

"Really? Thanks, Fuji-san -- you're the best!" The field agent was gone in a flash. 

"Well, I'd better follow him and make sure he doesn't overeat. Echizen . . ." 

"What is it, Fuji-san?" 

"A word of advice." The smiling coroner stepped through the open laboratory doors and began to swing them shut. "If you want to achieve true greatness, you'll have to aim a lot higher than your father did. And you must _never_ stop." 

He closed the doors and disappeared from view, leaving Ryoma alone with his thoughts in the silence of the empty corridor.

* * *

So much for that. Rather pointless, I'll admit. (I can almost hear my sister wailing "This simply doesn't do Fuji-sama justice!" -- right before she lops my head off with a tennis racquet.) But schoolwork has left me utterly drained, and this is the best that I can manage for now. Changes will be made just as soon as I can think of something better to write. 

Character preview for the final chapter: Inui and Kawamura. They're easier to re-create "on paper" -- in my view, at least -- so the last chapter will probably be better than this one.


End file.
